Read Online A Decent December by D.C. McMillen - Free Book Online Page A

Betty.” At that we both
looked down. Betty had already assumed belly rub position, lying
across Ned’s feet. He bent down to oblige. When he stood again, she
rolled over with all the grace of a turtle scrambling to right
itself after being flipped on its shell.
    As we walked in the direction of the Harbourfront, I
concentrated on trying to come up with something clever to say.
Then I realised my face was probably screwed into a knot, like it
does when I’m concentrating on things. So I then began
concentrating on not bunching my features while concentrating on
something interesting to say. Needless to say, I did not come up
with any gems so I breathed a sigh of relief when he asked what I
did for a living. So simple! Why didn’t I think of that
topic?
    “ I work with interior designers to procure
artwork for corporations. Mostly they rent as opposed to purchase
so I schedule the rotation of the pieces.” Congratulations, Nina! You strung together a cohesive
sentence. Wait, it did make sense, right? I
mentally repeated my answer and concluded that, yes, I did
good.
    “ Wow, that’s great! Do you procure pieces as well?” he asked,
and I melted a little at the sound of his deep, rumbling
voice.
    “ Sure, I’m always on the lookout for more art.”
    “ I own a small gallery in the Distillery District. I
concentrate almost entirely on up and coming Canadian artists. You
should stop by and check it out.”
    “ I’ll do that,” I said. My heart swelled a little.
    “ I have an exhibit on right now featuring Mitchell Chan. Have
you heard of him?”
    “ Yeah, sure. Isn’t he studying at School of the Art Institute
of Chicago? He was awarded a scholarship there, right?”
    “ That’s him! Wow, we have a lot in common.”
    “ Um, yeah, we sure do.” My heart started up with that stupid
pitter-patter thing again.
    “ Hey, do you want to go for coffee? The Pawsway just down the
street allows you to bring your dog inside.”
    “ It does? There are so many things I have to discover about
Toronto.”
    “ Yeah? Why don’t I show you around? Say, Friday night? We can
start at my gallery and have dinner at the Boiler House just around
the corner. You definitely need to check out the Distillery
District.”
    And just like that, Ned and I started dating. At least, I
think we were dating. I mean, we never really made out or anything,
we just sort of went places together.
    In fact, over the last couple of weeks in December, Ned took
me everywhere in
Toronto. I discovered the Distillery District, Cabbage Town, High
Park, Kensington Market, and Spadina. We ate Yogen Früz at the Eaton Centre and
visited Hemingway’s in Yorkville. Unfortunately, he had to go home
for the Christmas holidays but promised to take me to Vaughan Mills
in January.
    While he was gone, to the middle of nowheresville in Northern
Ontario according to him, I missed Ned terribly. I tried not to
think about the fact he hadn’t hit on me yet. I mean, maybe it was
not that abnormal?
Just because every schmuck I ever dated tried to get in my pants on
the first date did not mean I should expect the same from Ned.
Gorgeous, not-at-all thinning haired, no beer bellied Ned. Wowzers.
I swear over the Christmas break, I almost blew the motor on poor
old Mr. Hitachi.
    Betty and I flew back to Vancouver to spend Christmas Eve and
Christmas Day with my friends. I told them all about the fabulous
neighbour, Ned, including the fact he had yet to so much as kiss
me. My heart ached more than a little over his absence. I really
missed him. After I finally finished my incessant ramblings about
the man, my friends took a vote on whether he was my boyfriend or
just my buddy. They came up about fifty-fifty, so my vote was
supposed to be the tie breaker. Unfortunately, I felt hollow and
dry. Self-doubt and melancholy, likely brought on by the void
caused by the small part of me that Ned took with him to Northern
Ontario, made me think I was a fool for even hoping Ned’s